


who commands us to kindle

by gingerslapNotion



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: (takes place before Lio-hen), Gen, Hanukkah, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Jewish Character, LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), Minor Gueira/Meis (Promare), Nonbinary Character, Original Character-centric, Pre-Canon, Religion, Religious Discussion, Shabbat | Sabbath | Sabt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22345357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerslapNotion/pseuds/gingerslapNotion
Summary: "Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha'olam,"Rach began the prayer, summoning a small flame to the tip of their index finger."Asher kidishanu b'mitzvotav, vitzivanu,"They brought their finger down to light the two tiny orange birthday candles they'd melted to the cement floor of the burned-out building, the flames changing from Burnish pink to natural yellow as the wicks caught."L'hadlik ne'er shel Shabbat."
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	who commands us to kindle

**Author's Note:**

> i meant to finish this by hannukah but WHOOPS that didnt happen lmao  
> anyway so i had this jewish burnish oc i made for a friend's fic (this fic actually takes place in her verse) and i started thinking about how ever-present fire is in jewish ritual and.. this happened. enjoy!!

_ Tonight, let us offer that incantation. _

"Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha'olam,"

Rach began the prayer, summoning a small flame to the tip of their index finger.

"Asher kidishanu b'mitzvotav, vitzivanu,"

They brought their finger down to light the two tiny orange birthday candles they'd melted to the cement floor of the burned-out building, the flames changing from Burnish pink to natural yellow as the wicks caught. Their light was reflected in Nadège’s eyes, wide with wonder even after countless weeks watching Rach repeat the same actions, the same words.

"L'hadlik ne'er shel Shabbat."

Rach closed their eyes, Nadège following suit. They sat silently, the candles bringing a certain special warmth to their hands and faces that Burnish flares could not, until Rach noticed the distant sound of motorcycle engines down the road. They opened their eyes again. Nadège’s eyes were still closed, covered by her hands like the child she still was. Rach gently laid a hand on Nadège’s wrist, and she revealed her face again, her smile as bright as the two little flames.

“Shabbat Shalom, Rach!”

“Shabbat Shalom, Nadège,” Rach smiled back. They glanced behind Nadège at Leonix and the other Mad Burnish members who’d stayed behind, exchanging a quick nod before standing to greet the returning raid group.

Miami skidded to a stop in front of the building’s entrance just as they stepped through it. The hulking armor riding the ATV melted away to reveal Gueira, grinning wide, with his arms full of stolen groceries.

“I take it the trip was a success, then?” Leonix said with a smirk. Rach stepped forward to take some of the impressive haul off Gueira’s hands before he dropped it all over the sand.

“Oh man, it was like a dream! As soon as we were through the doors basically everyone inside shit their pants and ran, so Meis just held up a barrier while the rest of us snatched everything we could get our hands on!” Gueira gushed as Dallas pulled up beside him, followed by the rest of the raid trip on their own bikes, each member laid down with bags full of food and supplies.

“Haven’t had a raid go this smooth in months,” Meis commented, his faceplate melting away as he stood up off of Dallas. Still in his armor, he tilted his extra appendages forward to allow the plastic bags hung on them to slide off into Leonix’s waiting arms. “Maybe even  _ years _ .”

“Everything’s coming up Mad Burnish!” Gueira shouted, one arm raising a fist while the other hooked around Meis’ still-armored thigh (and a blush formed on the other man’s cheeks that did not go unnoticed by Rach).

“Burnin’ Burnish!” echoed the rest of Mad Burnish as they carried bags of Kraft Mac n’ Cheese and canned soup into the shelter.

“Hey, what’s with this bag that’s nothing but birthday candles?” Leonix asked, holding up the plastic bag in question. “Seems like the one thing we  _ don’t _ need,”

“They’re for Rach!” Gueira said, giving Meis’ armor a slap in emphasis before striding forward with a smile. “Hannukah is comin’ up, yeah?”

“Is it really?” Rach wondered incredulously, mostly to themself, taking the bag from Leonix.

“I dunno, there were Christmas decorations up in the store so it’s gotta be around that time of year,” Gueira told them, “You don’t know when it is?”

“Hard to keep track of the Hebrew calendar when you’re on the run,” Rach shrugged.

“I don’t think I realized there was a whole different calendar for that,” Meis said, descending slowly to the ground as he let his armor vanish.

“Yeah, it shifts around a lot in relation to the Gregorian calendar, and there’s like, a whole extra month every seven years, or something like that?” Rach said with a small laugh, “We always just googled when the next holiday was.”

“Huh. Learn something new every day!” Gueira said loudly, clapping a hand on Rach’s shoulder like he’d just dispensed an invaluable pearl of wisdom.

“Thanks, boss,” Rach said, “For the candles,” They looked into the bag and found at least forty 18-packs of the same little birthday candles they had just used for Shabbat. “I only needed 45 you know!” They called behind them as Gueira headed inside.

“I can’t do math, you know that!” Gueira shouted back. Meis chuckled and followed him into the shelter, and after a moment Rach headed in too. Inside, the Mad Burnish were already beginning to separate the provisions by expiry date and distribute the most perishable among the civilians to enjoy immediately. Rach headed back to where Nadège was waiting for them. Nadège held up a bag of baby carrots she’d been given.

“Rach, look! We got carrots!” Rach set the bag of candles down next to her, and Nadège immediately dropped the carrots to look inside. “Wow, so many! Are these all for Shabbat?” She asked, taking some of the packs out to get a better look at the colors.

“Nope! There’s a special holiday coming up, I’ll tell you in a bit!” Rach answered with a wink, before moving to help with the rest of the supplies.

Once their duties as a Mad Burnish were done, Rach headed back over to Nadège, who had sorted all the candles by color while she waited, arranging them in patterns and setting aside ones she particularly liked.

“Nadège, do you know what Hannukah is?” Rach asked as they knelt down beside her.

“Mhm!” Nadège nodded, “It’s Jewish Christmas!”

“Not exactly,” Rach began, a flame beginning to dance in their hand, “even though they’re around the same time of year, they celebrate very different things.”

With a flick of their wrist, the flame jumped onto the floor between the two of them, taking the rough shape of human figures in a manger. Rach remembered Nadège’s mother asking if there were any picture books in the synagogue she could read to her daughter at bedtime, so while she was in Rach’s care they had taken to adding flame constructs to illustrate the stories they told her. They weren’t particularly skilled at creating more detailed shapes and characters, but Nadège always seemed impressed nonetheless. She gasped softly as a tiny little baby in a crib formed in the center of the scene.

“Christmas, I bet you know, is the day Christians celebrate Jesus being born. But Hannukah,” the tiny nativity scene lost form, becoming flame again and reshaping into a crowd of figures each raising a fist to the sky, “Hannukah is the story of people fighting for the freedom to live as they want,”

“Like the Mad Burnish!” Nadège exclaimed brightly.

“Yeah, a little bit!...” Rach trailed off, becoming aware of other eyes besides Nadège’s watching them, including those of her two commanders. In the silence that followed, their flames reformed again, this time into a structure resembling what little they remembered of artists’ renditions of the temple of Jerusalem. “Hundreds of years ago, before Jesus was even born, the Jewish people lived in a city called Jerusalem, where they had a beautiful temple and were free to worship Adonai. But then,” a figure appeared in front of the temple, arm outstretched, “a king named Antiochus said that they couldn’t practice Judaism anymore. He said they had to worship his gods instead, and his soldiers destroyed the temple.”

The temple disappeared in a puff of smoke, and new figures reformed from it, a crowd facing the king, arms raised in anger and some of them holding weapons. “But the Jews refused. They fought Antiochus and his soldiers, and after a lot of fighting, they won!” The king disappeared, and the Jewish figures all raised their arms in joy.

“But what about the temple?” Nadège asked with a pout.

“I was just about to get to that! You’re so smart,” Rach told her, trying not to think about the others watching them. Nadège grinned. Rach continued, “Yes, they still had to rebuild the temple, and they had another problem as well. See, in the temple, and in every Jewish temple, there’s something called the eternal flame.” Rach held out their hand, conjuring a flickering ball of flame to rest in their palm, “a fire that’s always burning, no matter what. Back then, they used oil as a fuel source to keep this flame lit. But when Antiochus’ soldiers destroyed the temple, not only did they put out the flame-” Rach closed their hand, and the flare vanished, “-but they destroyed all the containers of oil as well; all except for one, only enough to last for one day, and to make new oil would take longer than that.”

“So what did they do?” Nadège asked.

“They lit it anyway,” Rach said, summoning a flame to the tip of their right thumb, “and then, a miracle happened. Instead of going out after one day, the oil lasted eight whole days, just long enough for new oil to be made.” One by one, the other fingers on Rach’s right hand and three on their left also ignited. “They were able to rebuild and rededicate the temple without the eternal flame going out again. That’s the miracle of Hannukah.”

“So that’s why you light all those candles! And why it lasts for eight nights!” Nadège exclaimed, excited by her newfound understanding.

“Exactly!” Rach said. The flames from their fingers flowed forth and took the shape of a traditional hannukiah. “Each night we light one more candle. So on the first night, we light one candle,” a flickering light formed on top of the central pillar, which Rach brought to their finger and used to light the farthest arm to the right, “and on the second night we light two, and so forth, until the last night, when all eight candles are lit.” As they said this they lit the remaining seven arms in succession. “Then we put our hannukiah in the window so everyone can see it.”

“But Rach, there’s nine candles there!” Nadège said.

“Ah, yes, I forgot to tell you, there’s a special extra candle called the shamash, which means ‘helper,’” Rach said, pointing to the light on the center pillar. “We use this candle to light the other eight.”

“Why?” Nadège asked.

Rach thought for a moment, then answered honestly, “You know, I don’t remember the reason we do that. Just tradition, I guess… heh, tradition.”

Nadège seemed confused by this last part, but moved on. “So, when does Hannukah start? I wanna light the candles with you!”

“I don’t know that either, unfortunately,” Rach told her, “All the Jewish holidays go by a special calendar, determined by both the moon and the sun, and since I… since we don’t have the right tools, I can’t find out when it begins. For all I know, it may have already started!”

Nadège said nothing, just pouted a bit, and Rach would have done anything to cheer her up.

“How about we just start now?” They offered. “You can even pick out the candles.”

Immediately Nadège lit up again. She turned back to the candles she’d laid out and, with careful consideration, selected a red-and-white striped one and a blue one with polka dots.

“Like Gueira and Meis’ flames!” she explained, turning her head to look at the two men, who had been watching in respectful silence from across the room.

“Aww, thanks Naddie!” Gueira said, turning slightly pink and scratching at his cheek, while Meis offered the girl a small but undoubtedly kind smile.

“Which one do you want to be the shamash?” Rach asked, taking the candles from her. After some more thought, Nadège pointed to the blue one. Gueira’s shoulders slumped and Meis chuckled.

Rach brought a flame to the bottom of the red candle, causing the wax to melt, before pressing it to the ground near the remains of the shabbat candles. “Do you want to try lighting our helper candle?” They asked, holding it out to her.

Nadège nodded enthusiastically, then shut her eyes tight. She raised a single pointer finger, and with a small sputter, a little Burnish flare came to life at the tip of it. Nadège, unlike most Burnish, and especially Burnish children, had difficulty summoning her flames. Rach and the other more experienced Burnish adults had been helping her gain control of her powers, and with this little flame of hope, it seems their work had begun to pay off. Its light reflected in Nadège’s eyes, wide with disbelief and excitement, and in Rach’s, beaming with pride. Slowly, carefully, Nadège brought her finger down to the wick of the candle, and in less than a second it caught, orange light joining the bright pink. The flame went out.

“Good job, Nadège! I’m so proud of you!” Rach told her, and Nadège grinned back.

“Woo! Yeah Naddie!” Gueira whooped from behind her, clapping loudly along with Meis, who applauded more calmly. “We’re gonna make a Mad Burnish out of you yet!” Now it was Nadège’s turn to blush.

“Thanks,” she said softly, her grin replaced with a shy smile.

“Okay,” Rach continued, “The prayer for lighting the candles is exactly the same as for shabbat, except for instead of “shabbat,” you say “hannukah.” Got it?”

Nadège nodded, and they began.

“Baruch atah Adonai, eloheinu melech ha’olam,”

Rach brought the shamash down to the candle on the ground, holding the wicks together until the other one caught.

“Asher kidishanu, b’mitzotav, vitzivanu,”

They held the bottom of the shamash in the candle’s flame until the wax became soft, then pressed it to the ground.

“L’hadlik ne’er shel Hannukah.”

“Do we have to close our eyes now?” Nadège asked.

“Nope, that’s just for Shabbat. We’re done!” Rach said.

“There isn’t more you do?”

Rach felt a pang in their chest at this question. There was no dreidel or gelt, no gifts to give or receive… of course lighting the candles were the most important part of the holiday, but Rach still felt homesick for all the trappings and the loved ones to share them with. They wondered if their parents were lighting the candles without them; if it was even safe to do so anymore.

But they couldn’t show that. They had to be strong, for Nadège. They were all she had.

“Wait here,” Rach told her, standing up and heading over to Gueira and Meis.

“Can I take one thing from the rations? Just this once. I’ll go without meals tomorrow-”

“Rach, relax.” Meis told her. “After today’s raid we have more than enough to make up for you taking  _ one item _ .”

“I know, but-”

“C’mon, it’s a special occasion for you!” Gueira chimed in. “Everyone will understand. And if they don’t, I’ll make ‘em!”

Rach smiled. “Thanks, Bosses.”

They went over to the pile of rations in one corner of the shelter, and after some digging, arose with a victorious “A-ha!” clutching a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips.

“One of the special foods we eat for Hannukah are called ‘latkes,’” Rach began to explain as they headed back over to Nadège. “Latkes are potato pancakes fried in olive oil, which represents the oil that lasted eight days. It takes a lot of work to make them, and ingredients and time we don’t have. But!” Rach handed Nadège the bag of chips. “They had potatoes and onions, and often people dipped them in sour cream, so sour cream and onion potato chips are only a few ingredients away from being latkes!”

“Cool!” Nadège said, tearing open the bag and taking a chip. Rach sat down cross-legged facing their makeshift hannukiah and patted their lap in an offer for Nadège to come sit in it, which she did happily. “Here, open wide!” Nadège held up a chip. Rach opened their mouth for Nadège to place it in, and crunched down happily. Rach usually tried to eat as healthily as they could given the circumstances, but for a holiday, they supposed they could make an exception.

“Hannukah shalom, Rach!” Nadège said happily.

“Thank you, Nadège,” Rach replied through their mouthful of chips, “But actually, Shabbat is the only holiday we say ‘shalom’ for. For all the others, we would say, ‘sameach,’ which means ‘happy!’”

“Oh,” Nadège said, “Then, Hannukah sameach!”

“Hannukah sameach to you too,” Rach told her, and placed a kiss on her cheek.

As the night went on, they finished their bag of chips and watched the candles burn lower and lower until they finally extinguished, and eventually Nadège fell asleep, still in Rach’s lap, her head on their shoulder.

Or so Rach thought, anyway.

“Why did God make us Burnish?” Rach was caught off guard by the question. They looked down at Nadège’s face, eyes they thought had been closed actually half-lidded, tired but still conscious, for now.

In truth, Rach wasn’t sure if they believed in God anymore. Maybe they never did. Neither of their parents were particularly religious - their father a runaway from a transphobic Methodist upbringing who found acceptance living with a childless Presbyterian couple, their mother raised by a loving agnostic Jewish family that had supported her through every step of her transition. Rach had been taught from a young age about the culture and community of Judaism, but was always encouraged to form their own opinions and beliefs rather than blindly follow any dogma others set before them. They might once have believed in God as a child, the same way they might’ve believed in wishing on a star or not stepping on sidewalk cracks. But with all the suffering Rach knew existed in the world, all the pain they’d witnessed their loved ones go through and all the trials they themself had experienced in their short life, they simply couldn’t find it in them to have faith in a benevolent creator.

But they remembered the shining golden cross Nadège’s mother had worn around her neck, the blessings she had offered to their rabbi, the prayers she had said every night after Nadège had drifted to sleep in her arms, blinking away tears of fire as the words fell like cinders from her mouth, and Rach decided it was not their place to shake Nadège’s faith, if she was lucky enough to still have it.

“I don’t know, what do you think?” seemed a suitable reply, though in truth it was all Rach could think of to answer. Nadège was silent, still staring into the middle distance as she thought.

“The Bible said God created us in His image…” Nadège said quietly. “Maybe God is a Burnish just like us.”

The statement hung in the air like the smell of smoke. Rach turned it over in their head, once, twice, and began to make connections they couldn’t believe they hadn’t made before - the everpresence of fire in Jewish life that they’d never noticed. The sacrificial fire in the temples of old that became the eternal flame housed in every synagogue, the bush that burned but was not consumed, the messengers of God known as seraphim, literally “burning ones,” even the commandment to light the lights for Shabbat and other holidays - all of these seemed to be echoes of a force that yearned for incineration, who communicated through conflagration. Were not the Burnish themselves living beings who burned, but did not burn up? Were not the Burnish messengers clad in armor of flames, communicating the desires of the voices they heard from the pyre?

It could all have been a coincidence; fire had occupied an essential place in human evolution and culture long before the first Burnish had awakened. And yet it made a strange sort of sense to Rach, the feeling that being a Burnish was a blessing; that each of them was part of something greater than themselves. It was a feeling they’d felt before - a shining warmth in their chest that arose when they sang songs and swayed arm-in-arm with their congregation in the pews of the synagogue, when they danced down the street with their friends and family in the Pride Parade, when they raced through the desert with the Mad Burnish leaving trails of fire in their wake. Rach didn’t know if they believed in an all-powerful entity that had created the heavens and earth, but they believed in the unity of people, the strength of community and the power of pride. Wasn’t that what Hannukah was about, after all? The Greeks hadn’t been smited by bolts of lightning from the sky, the Maccabees had had to fight long and hard to overcome their oppressors. Perhaps God wasn’t an external being at all, but a force within each person that grew stronger when banded together. And maybe, just maybe, that collective power had been strong enough to allow a small bottle of oil to burn seven days longer than it should have. Maybe all the Maccabees as one had been the very first Burnish.

“That could be true...” Rach whispered, summoning a flame to the hand that held Nadège’s, illuminating both their faces in an unearthly glow, “But what I think, is that each Burnish is a part of God.”

**Author's Note:**

> WITH THANKS TO CHU FOR BETA READING!! AND LETTING ME SET MY FIC IN HER VERSE AND ALSO LETTING ME USE LEONIX!! ALSO THANKS TO JO!!!!! I LUV U GUYS
> 
> i may make this a small series about rach, the next part would be the story of how they went burnish. so stay tuned for that, hopefully!
> 
> also, YALL!! HELP ME MAKE THE ORIGINAL BURNISH CHARACTERS TAG REAL!!!!
> 
> EDIT 12/5/20: This fic is now mirrored on [my new fanfic website!](https://pebe1997.wixsite.com/gingerslapnotion/who-commands-us-to-kindle)


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